


One Percent

by Maldoror_Chant



Category: Gundam Wing
Genre: Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Light Angst, Lime, M/M, POV Heero Yuy, Timeline What Timeline, Yaoi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-31
Updated: 2013-12-31
Packaged: 2020-04-07 06:16:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,407
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19079185
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maldoror_Chant/pseuds/Maldoror_Chant
Summary: By Maldoror





	1. Outside

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Dacia, the archivist: this work was originally archived at [A Little Piece of Gundam Wing](https://fanlore.org/wiki/A_Little_Piece_Of_Gundam_Wing), which closed in 2017. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project after July 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [a little piece of gundam wing collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/alittlepieceofgundamwing/profile).
> 
> Author: Maldoror  
> Title: One Percent - Outside  
> Rated R for language, mature content, lime (I SWEAR this started out as a PG-13, I don't know how those two little hentais ran away with the plot…)  
> Heero POV. Bit of Duo's POV at the end. 1x2.  
> Disclaimer: Do you have to make me repeat it? It's bad enough I don't own them and make no money off of them and have no rights over them whatsoever, do you have to make me sing it as well? *sob*
> 
> Summary: A few months after the events in ‘Whispers' Heero is forced to reflect on his strange, sensual and still dangerous relation with Duo. Heero POV, 1x2, lime  
> > / This-/ is Heero thinking to himself. It's his inner control freak, for want of a better explanation.

Duo lunges at me, his right fist aiming a vicious blow at my throat.   
  
My arm jerks up, blocks a blow that wasn't hard enough, has to be - A feint!   
  
He's already spun into the momentum of his thrust, bringing his knee into the side of my hip with a thud. Another bruise.  
  
/No permanent damage./  
  
I twist and turn to the left, avoiding the lash of his leg straightening and sweeping towards my knee. He lagged a bit so I dodge it; an OZ soldier would have had the knee dislocated.   
  
/No. Enemy soldier would have been -/  
  
I swing in the direction I twisted, using my momentum, bringing my right hand in a chop to the neck-   
  
/- disabled by the first-/  
  
\- which he dodges, my hand whistling over his right ear-  
  
/-blow 02 landed on me./  
  
\- but my left hand has already darted forward to catch him on his right shoulder, spinning him around, out of control this time, staggering to catch his balance. He leaps back with the grace of a cat before I can take advantage of it and we face off once more.  
  
"Ha, you shove like a little girl, Yuy!" He's trying to distract me.  
  
He leaps back at me as he speaks, trying to catch me off guard. I am ready. It looks like he's trying for a flying tackle and I am poised to lash at his head.   
  
No! He's coming in too low!  
  
I try to jump back but I'm off by a second; he lands short of me on bent arms, flips over them and lands into me feet first. He doesn't straighten his legs, and I was already backing away, so the blow is only mildly bruising instead of crippling.   
  
/Showy yet effective-/  
  
I catch his right leg though before he can continue into his roll and get away -  
  
/-but he needs to finish up cleaner./  
  
\- and slam my elbow into his knee to break the kneecap.   
  
I do not break bone of course, I stop short of a small welt. Damage at this point is not acceptable. This is an exercise in control as much as it is a sparring match.  
  
Duo twists and brings his other leg swinging over to hit me in the chest. Expecting this, my right forearm blocks him easily. He leverages against my block with that leg, though, shoving me a bit, and twists again-  
  
/Flexible-/  
  
\- lunges and grabs my right wrist with both hands, trying to bend it down and back-  
  
/-but he lacks upper body strength./  
  
\- trying to twist and dislocate my arm.  
  
/Estimate a success rate of 80% against trained enemy soldier./  
  
He throws his entire body weight onto my arm.  
  
Which doesn't budge an inch.   
  
I feel him sag in surprise.  
  
 "Bloody-!?" He's talking again.   
  
/Always talking. Unnecessary./  
  
I lift my left arm to punch him in the jaw-  
  
/Control, 10% maximum strength only./  
  
\- to make him realize how badly he's exposed himself.   
  
He lets himself drop bonelessly as my punch hits, avoiding most of the damage from the weakened blow. His move drags me forward slightly as he's not released my arm.   
  
His right hand, straight-edged and deadly, sweeps up along my captured arm as I stumble into him.   
  
/Cervical crush, parry./  
  
But instead of chopping at the neck, the hand turns open-fingered towards my right cheek. My left hand is in place to parry the blow to my neck. I was not expecting him to strike higher-  
  
/This is not a strike!/  
  
\- and his fingers flicker to caress my cheek, his thumb brushes my lips.  
  
/Unacceptable./  
  
I straighten and jerk with the captured right arm, my entire strength suddenly released, and the slight form goes flying with a grunt of surprise, turning to a gasp of pain as I spin and connect with a sweeping kick to his shoulder that sends him crashing to the ground a few feet away.   
  
I back off a step as he shakes his head dazedly. The kick was for real. He realizes this as he grasps his shoulder in pain. But not at my full strength, or his shoulder would be more than badly bruised. He realizes this as well.  
  
/Just a warning./   
  
/For now./  
  
 There's a slight pout on those sensuous, expressive lips as he glares at me. I scowl back. He should know better than to not take this less than seriously.  
  
I know why he's behaving like this. This surprises me, I am not normally so perceptive about another's irrationalities. Duo has been an education in many ways, one that has helped me anticipate reactions from him, and, to a lesser extent, normal people as well.  
  
The reason he's doing this is shifting in annoyance against the door jamb of the hangar we're using as hiding place for our Gundams and a make-shift training ground. Pilot 05 is scowling too. He's been wanting to spar with me for months now, and does not understand why Duo is the only one I accept as a partner. Duo is enjoying _relishing_ , my mind whispers unexpectedly, it's a word that seems to suit him- our closeness and is trying to flaunt it. I believe this is subconscious. It is if he knows what's good for him.   
  
"Oooh, I almost felt that, Heero. What's the matter, did I tickle you or something? Can't the big bad Perfect Soldier take a little ribbing?" This is for Chang's benefit, Duo knows better than to try to fool me. But Chang does not know we are intimate. He does not need to know.  
  
The smile curves and hardens, the violet eyes narrow. Duo made a mistake. That doesn't mean he's going to take my reprimand quietly. That is not his nature. I have provoked him.  
  
The smile turns into something that makes a small shiver of anticipation unexpectedly run up my spine. He says nothing this time. The man who launches himself at me means business now. _Shinigami_ , my mind whispers, but I crush that fantasy ruthlessly. I will learn what I want from Duo but I will not let him influence me beyond that. I don't need an imagination.  
  
A rapid frontal attack, I can't fault him on speed. A flurry of punches rain on my arms, that I crossed over my chest to block them-  
  
/Estimated 30% stronger strikes. 70% of 02's full strength./   
  
I think I made him a bit angry, but the blows are still controlled.  
  
/Acceptable./  
  
His smile sours as I block all his blows, though I am temporarily unable to retaliate, which is a feat unto itself. He has learned from me as well…  
  
I am not so concentrated that I lose sight of what's around me. My ‘danger zone', as Duo insists on calling it, stretches to the doorway, where I can feel Chang shift again. He's frowning, In the flashes of sight/feeling I allow myself to keep aware of my surroundings, I can see his fists twitch. With his extensive training in martial arts he might be able to do a better job in a straight-out confrontation than Duo. He's longing to try, anyway.   
  
He doesn't understand. Though my control is good, I would only do this with Duo. After three months of intimate contact, my body has slowly adapted to treating him as something that is a bit less than a threat. Even if one of his blows slips my guard and stuns me, my body will not retaliate automatically.   
  
If it did, I could kill him.  
  
I doubt, though, that the pilot of Shenlong would be willing to consider changing our working relation to a sexual one just to be able to spar with me. I doubt Duo would accept this either. I have few thoughts either way, but as this would add to the degree of complexity in my relations with yet another pilot not to mention Duo- I would prefer to avoid it as well.  So Chang will have to accept sparring with Barton instead. He is a valuable resource. I do not wish to accidentally kill him.  
  
There is a good probability that Duo has also evolved a tolerance to my own presence. He has a different way of handling physical contact than I do. In fact he's quite a tactile person. But I know he has the reflexes of a killer as well, and he does not handle physical pain as well as I do. This would make him dangerous to spar with as well without prior contact and habituation.  
  
/Opening-/  
  
I suddenly lean back, bending and twisting at the waist, my left hand dropping from defence to snatch at his fist and drag it quickly forwards. I slip into his guard, right fist up and swinging, but he's already twisting, diving - damn he's fast-  
  
/Adjust./  
  
-escaping nearly!  
  
I catch the long braid as it slithers past my fist, and he no longer has the leeway to dodge me. After two tense seconds I end up with a choke-hold on his neck, braid taut in my other hand; he's on his knees and I'm pinning his legs down with my own, half-kneeling right behind him, pressed against his back. He grunts as he realizes that he's lost this round, but I still let my grip on his throat tighten a little, to remind him of the cost of losing in a real fight. He snorts and wiggles against my hold. He already knows.  
  
I release him slowly, all but the braid. As he twists away from me and struggles to a crouch, it tightens between us. I lift it up and glare at him along its length.   
  
"When are you going to finally cut this off, baka?"   
  
He sticks his tongue out at me I hear Chang snort dismissively near the doorway as he turns and leaves- and pulls the braid from my hand, leaving with a swing of the hips that was probably not destined for a mere sparring partner. It's seductive. The glare he darts me is not, he's favouring his shoulder. It's a small dirty look, before the jester's mask returns and he follows Chang. I deduce that I am going to be teased later in private, but I doubt I will get any sexual gratification from him tonight.   
  
/Inconsequential./  
  
I guess it is.


	2. Inside

/Alert./  
  
My fingers keep clicking on the keyboard for a second, then I pause-  
  
/Analyse threat./  
  
\- and pretend to reread what I was writing. Trying to figure out what has triggered my sense of alert.  
  
/Analyse... /  
  
Ah, slight smell. One I know very well. But its silent unexplained presence here means...   
  
/Analysis: 02, no threat./  
  
I let my fingers click a few more keys. My back and shoulders are completely relaxed, I show no signs of any tension, any awareness.  
  
/How close? Analyse./   
  
I have learned a lot from Duo...   
  
/Cannot analyse./  
  
But he's still a lot better at stalking me than I am at foiling him, now that he knows me and my capabilities even better than before.   
  
Now that I know he's here, should I let him-  
  
/Unacceptable./  
  
No I guess not. I wait a second, then uncoil like a spring, sending the chair flying as I reach behind me, grabbing.  
  
So fast-... He dodges my hand but trips over backwards. I stare down at him; lithe yet muscular, dressed only in black sweatpants, sitting on his rump with a rueful but amused expression on his face.   
  
"Fuck, Yuy, you're gettin' good at this! You didn't need to grab at me like that though. I wasn't going to _hurt_ you." His hips flex a bit as he leans back against his hands. Normally if I become aware of him, I let him get... closer.  
  
"Hn." I scrutinize him. He's visibly come out of the shower, his hair is still damp, so where did that smell come from?  
  
The smile curls. "Oh my. Is the perfect soldier in a bit of a snit? What's wrong, can't handle not gettin' any last night? You gonna go all cold and moody on me now?"  
  
/There./  
  
"Whoa! Guess not!" He laughs as I kneel down and reach towards him, but it fades as I do nothing more than lift his hands before my face, examining his fingers.  
  
"Er-" And then he blinks as I curl his fingers towards him and point to his nails. There is a very thin line of yellow beneath some of them.  
  
"Thanks, buddy." Instantly, the jester is gone. Pilot 02 realizes I may have just saved his life. The fluid we use in our Gundams' hydraulics has a characteristic and very pervasive smell. He's been working on Deathscythe ever since our training match yesterday, he's probably blocked out the smell by now. But in a few hours, that slight trace of his presence might have gotten him killed. "I better go scrub that before I leave tonight."  
  
I say nothing as I sit back down in the straightened chair and go back to my list of spare parts requirements. He doesn't go back to the bathroom, however.  
  
"Of course, you still didn't have to grab at me like that, babe." His voice is low and back to teasing. "So I still think you're a bit put out."  
  
"No." I can feel him getting nearer. "I couldn't allow you to try to creep up on me, Duo. Not while partially aware of your presence. We cannot risk an injury to you before a mission."  
  
" _Before_ a- never mind."    
  
He doesn't finish. I never hid from Duo that the game he chooses to play with me now is dangerous. Stealthing up to me while I'm awake and concentrating on other things is risky, even for a master of the art, one whose presence is now more familiar than any other. He doesn't touch me when he does this, he knows better than that. He gets in very close though, then steps back and waits for me to notice him at a safer distance. I can always tell from his grin how close he got to me and how long he was there before I noticed. It stretches out like a ruler, measuring the risk and his satisfaction at it.  
  
This game excites him. It excites me as well, though I disapprove of it. It's dangerous, but it keeps me on my toes. This is good training. Since he started I have learned a lot about stealth, infiltration, control and Duo.  
  
His nighttimes stalking was also dangerous, yet I had allowed that to continue after I found out about it. It allowed me to observe the master of stealth up close, without the protective jester mask he usually wore, and it had been challenging. I don't know how long Duo had managed to stalk me before I even became aware of it, I guess quite some time from the way he'd mastered it. That one touch against my hair that one night had been his mistake. It had registered, though I'd been too incapacitated by exhaustion to react immediately. Fortunately by the time I'd surfaced he'd stepped back and I was able to conclude the threat level was minimal.   
  
It took me some time before I could analyse what had happened adequately, and figure out what was going on. If I was awake, nothing happened. In the end I had to bug our own quarters for a week to confirm what he was doing when I was truly asleep.   
  
Duo was very put out about that later when I told him. I think he was embarrassed. But I consider it an accomplishment.   
  
It was an interesting challenge, to figure out how to mimic my own sleep patterns and catch Shinigami in the act. I made the effort because it was good practice for both of us.   
  
And maybe I was... curious.   
  
/Unnecessary. Inconsequential./  
  
Well, I guess I was still trying to learn more about him at the time. I knew that I would not get any answers if I asked him flat out, and that the behaviour would immediately stop. Then I wouldn't be able to analyse it. I decided that he was good enough to survive these in my mind they were training exercises- even on those nights I was truly asleep, I respected his abilities that much.   
  
So I waited, and watched, both at night and in our work together. My patience allowed me to finally analyse the reasons behind his actions. I concluded that he desired, among other things, a closer relation.  
  
I weighed this and decided that this was acceptable. I had been desiring some release and intimacy, but it was not an option till then; I would not have compromised the mission with someone unrelated to it. And besides, it would have been frustrating and dangerous to try to conduct relations with someone who was unable to understand the risks and precautions needed.  
  
... Speaking of which... .  
  
/Proximity- 02, no threat./  
  
He's sliding up behind me, but a bit to the side, so that I can see/sense him properly. He leans against the back of my chair and turns his head towards mine, and blows gently to lift my bangs from my eyes. My hands stutter then lie still on the keyboard. He leans a bit more and a finger, calloused from using weapons from a gun to a Gundam, lifts slowly to my face-  
  
/Close proximity no threat./  
  
\- and brings it down the side of my face without touching the skin, letting me get used to his presence through our usual ritual.  
  
I am controlled enough that a casual touch will not result in injury, most time. I _do_ have to function in normal societies without decking giddy girls trying to lean on me. And for some reason which I cannot compute, when we are undercover in a school, this seems to happen a lot. Duo has refused to explain this to me. It's hard, it's stressful, but a casual touch, particularly from a fellow pilot, will not get a violent reaction from me.  
  
But Duo doesn't want a casual touch.   
  
I always feared that my body would interpret sexual excitement as a form of danger, and that I could injure a partner if I wasn't controlled. It was a relief to find that with a cautious and slow approach from a source I knew was not a threat, my deeper conditioning could be, well, broken-  
  
/Unacceptable! Unacceptable!/  
  
I tense and Duo's finger quickly withdraws and he leans back slightly. I think he should leave, I think he _will_ leave, but then he leans forwards again slowly. His fingers on the back of my chair are half an inch from my t-shirt. He twitches his shoulder, and his braid falls forward into my lap. I tense, but I also flush...   
  
... With a cautious and slow approach from a source I knew was not a threat my deeper conditioning could be _altered_ to allow closer contact.  
  
The braid drags an inch across my lap as Duo leans forward a bit more, and, sensing the state of tension from me to be acceptable, finally lays lips like feathers against the corner of my jaw.  
  
/... /  
  
And he slips past my defences, turning them off in the process.   
  
/... /  
  
The senses of danger, tension and excitement turn to desire. He smells slightly of soap and Gundam hydraulics fluid. I breathe him in deeply...   
  
He grins ‘like a cat covered in canary feathers' as Winner put it the other day, and slides gently forward, to straddle my lap. His arms curl around my sides I'm still on the edge, still too tense to allow hands around my neck- and he moves forward in one fluid dragging movement that brushes every inch of my thighs up to my groin.   
  
"Hey babe." His words are a zephyr touch on my lips more than a sound. "You busy?"  
  
"Yes." But I say it with only a breath at the back of my throat and my lips moving against his. "And you should rest before-"  
  
He moves his hips and grinds against me. "Make me."  
  
"If you insist on compromising your welfare and the mission this way," I breathe, "I will have to."  
  
"Oh you make me so horny when you almost tell a joke." I'm having a hard time catching his evanescent words, my blood is humming through my body, rushing in my ears.  
  
I lift one of his hands strong, very capable of serious damage-  
  
/... /  
  
-and kiss the palm before placing it on my shoulder. Violet eyes near mine ignite at the caress and the sign of trust, of nearness, as his fingers drift towards my neck in a caress.  
  
He tips my head slightly to kiss me, a feather blowing in a breeze to start with, gentle touches. My hand drops from his arm to his back, then down to the side of his bare waist in a gentle caress. I feel him ply to that touch. I'm actually dropping my hand to the pocket of his sweatpants to insure he has what we need on him. I feel his lips move against mine in a grin as he realizes what I'm doing.  
  
Duo told me after one of our matings, in the hushed tones of secrets in darkness- that he was surprised at how sensual I could be.   
  
My gentleness came from a massive effort at control, first. Then, that first night, when he broke through my when he slipped _momentarily_ into my defences-  
  
/... /  
  
\- the gentleness was... natural. My hands, when mine to control, had no desire to crush or maim. Child's hands.  
  
No, said Duo. Not gentle. I appreciate that mind you, babe, don't get me wrong you bruise me enough when sparring. But sensual?  
  
Sometimes that sensuality is accidental, like now, as I caress his hip lightly and feel the small tube in the pocket of his sweatpants, but can I really be doing something entirely by accident? Probably not. Sensual. I'm not sure where that comes from.   
  
I think it comes from Duo. The word Sensual was not even in my word database until I met him. He embodies it. I don't know if he brings it out of me or inflicts it upon me.   
  
But we both like it.   
  
J inflicted my strength upon me, among other things best forgotten right at this moment. I have no problem standing slowly, Duo still draped around my shoulders and waist. My senses have tightened around me I trust Duo to be a second set of eyes and ears in case of danger, we should see it coming- but I still know where the chair and table are and I manage to move past both, avoiding a small thump or sound of furniture dragging on thin carpet. I move away in silence, despite the weight in my arms. I told Duo on our second night that I would not let our changing relations affect the group dynamic of the team I'd slowly come to rely on as much as well, not quite as much as Wing, but almost.   
  
Duo had whispered, Sure babe, whatever. _I_ just don't want to share. This is just too fun this way anyway.  
  
I decided not to think about that. As long as he had _some_ reason for discretion... I don't need the others worrying about how these physical contacts will affect the efficiency of pilots 01 and 02. I do enough of that for all five of us _and_ Dr J as well.  
  
His hand flutters up my arm. So in tune that I can tell a signal from a caress, I follow his lead without thinking, taking two steps in the direction indicated. We fetch up in silence with Duo pinned against the wall near the desk.   
  
He smiles and kisses my forehead where a frown has settled. "Here. Against the wall." He mouths, greedily.  
  
I scowl at him. I happen to _know_ that Barton is reading in his room on the other side of that wall.   
  
Duo's grin melts into a pout. I crush my lips against it, like I wanted to do yesterday-  
  
/... /  
  
-and rock against him. His breath hisses out between my lips and his muscles flex beneath my arms as he uses the wall's friction to return the favour. I allow him a few moments of pleasure well I enjoy it too- then I tear us away. His chest heaves in a silent groan, but that is too athletic a position for two pilots who both have missions soon, too prone to injury. The bed is more yielding.  
  
"You're no sport, babe." His complaint a small tickle on my ear as I lean him down on the bed.  
  
"You're a sport, baka." I mutter, and his grin is like fireworks as he realizes I meant the double meaning. I _do_ intend to restrict what I learn from Duo...   
  
The real sport is getting out of our clothes without the antique bedsprings squeaking. I almost consider tossing covers on the floor instead, but the old floorboards beneath the carpet are just as bad, and Quatre is on perimeter watch on the monitors in the small room under ours. And he's definitely one to be careful with...   
  
Duo rescues the tube from his pocket before the sweatpants go tumbling from the bed. He tries to push it into my fingers but I close his own on it. "You're leaving soonest." I tell him, as firmly as I can while not lifting my voice louder than the faint hum of my laptop's batteries.  
  
Duo's eyes roll. It's very expressive. But I know he wouldn't have me thinking any other way (even if he likes to complain about it constantly). If he did-  
  
/... /  
  
\- the little pop of the tube's cap sounds erotically loud, and Duo grins as he squeezes some into his hands, then tickles me with his breath all the way to my erection. I feel his very talented mouth on me now that I _have_ been trying to learn from him- as well as slicked fingers lower down and I stop thinking entirely for the next chunk of blissful eternity.  
  
/......... /


	3. Be Perfect

"OK, I'm off!" The windows seem to rattle with the force of the shout.  
  
I follow Duo to the door after he's said his goodbyes to the other pilots. The mission he is going on is short but dangerous, and he has to do it solo. This is inadvisable in my mind, but the mission is necessary and requires a mastery of stealth so I assigned it to him. Duo has not argued and is preparing to leave with his usual enthusiasm.  
  
"I should be back in eight hours. You'll be gone by then, right? That three-day mission over near the border?" He flashes a grin at me.  
  
"Correct."  
  
"Well then blow up some dollies for me, and I'll see you again in three days time! Be good!"  
  
I scowl inside. Be good?  
  
/What is that supposed to mean./  
  
The black-clad figure before me always in constant motion, graceful, turning, bobbing, leaning over, tossing a braid aside suddenly stills for the first time in ten minutes as violet eyes blink at me. A grin stretches into a smile.  
  
"Oops sorry!"  
  
I am surprised, had my expression betrayed my irritation... ?  
  
"What I _meant_ was... "  
  
Duo breaches the four steps between us in his usual fluid movement, putting a careful hand on my shoulder, and, in the instant he feels my reflexes quiet -  
  
/Proximity- 02, not a threat/  
  
\- so he won't be instinctively decked -  
  
/What does he think he's-/  
  
\- but an instant before I can react and brush his hand away in irritation, he leans forward.   
  
Warm lips press lightly over mine in a caress.  
  
"Love ya, soldier. Be perfect!" The words are a whisper in my ear.  
  
I instinctively dodge the braid that goes flying over his shoulder as Duo pirouettes back towards the door, swooping low to catch his duffel in the same movement, other hand patting his holster automatically.  
  
"Play nice children! See ya all soon!"  
  
The door slams, and the house seems to expand. The extra space is carpeted wall to wall with silence. It seems to drink in the eventual whine of Deathscythe manoeuvring out of the hangar near the safe-house. A small rumble, a vibration in the floor as much as a sound, signals his departure.  
  
My footsteps seem suddenly muffled as I walk back towards the stairs. I pass the small common room on my way. Chang is going over his mission specs. Barton is going through our first aid kit and ammo thoroughly. Preparing, I realize, for the worst case scenario when Duo returns. Winner is helping and watching Barton.   
  
_/Love ya... /_  
  
 _/Be perfect... /_  
  
I frown. That didn't compute.   
  
I have been observing Duo Maxwell closely for many months now.  He does not say as much stupid things as I first thought, as others still believe. The tone of voice was teasing, but I detected a current of deeper meaning beneath, especially with those last two words.  
  
We've been pursuing intimate physical relations for three months now, whenever mission parameters and other factors have allowed it. It is a natural release from sexual tension. It has one advantage over manual satisfaction. The presence of another during the act quiets another animal instinct that might otherwise interfere with proper functions. Humans are social creatures. Occasional physical intimacy can be as important as sexual release.  
  
 _/Love ya... /_  
  
Many more months previously, I freed pilot 02 from an OZ prison instead of executing him. That decision had been made on very few parameters and had seemed only tenuously logical at the time. Since then I have been watching him carefully, in an attempt to judge if that decision had been correct.  
  
 I have since re-evaluated my opinion and confirmed it with more data. If I was placed in the same position again I would not hesitate this time. I would not pull the trigger unless there were absolutely no other solution. Duo is a valuable asset to the war. The 'baka' façade he chooses to wear no longer disturbs me, though I make sure my irritation is still apparent to avoid any escalation in his antics. All in all, the association with such a loose canon is satisfactory. Duo is a much more efficient, deadly and potent weapon than I had first estimated.   
  
But now I am worried I have underestimated him in one aspect. I do not like to think he is foolish enough to have formed an emotional attachment to me.  
  
In the room we share in the safe-house I hesitate to return to work. Blue prints of the base I am to observe over the next three days, then attack when the mobile dolls are unloaded, are scattered over our small desk. My laptop is blinking, the satellite recon results are back and awaiting analysis.  
  
This is a mission, and top priority. But it fits into the overall mission that is my life at this time. I hesitated to let other people become part of this mission, though the gains have far outweighed the risk up till now. But that does not mean I can become lax. I need to know more about what Duo is feeling, I need to analyse this, incorporate the new data into the parameters of the overall mission, and make sure it and we are not affected in any negative way.  
  
But how to access this data? Wait until we are both back here and interrogate him?   
  
/Rejected./   
  
No. Any direct question will bounce off the jester's mask that Duo uses as part of his camouflage and infiltration techniques, a move so ingrained since earliest childhood he keeps it up even here, in the safe-house. He keeps it up even with me sometimes, though less and less frequently. But I think he will use it if I try to access his feelings directly, as he will be unsure of my own reactions, and will not like that uncertainty  
  
If this was technical data it might be stored on Duo's laptop; a challenging hacking job -  
  
/60% success rate anticipated/  
  
\- Duo's programming skills are as adept as his stealth and infiltration abilities. But I doubt he keeps this kind of information in binary form.  
  
Uncertain how to proceed, I put the harder task of hacking his computer aside for now. It is easier to start going methodically through his possessions. I do so attentively, to avoid any traces of disturbance. I have neither hesitation nor qualm in obtaining necessary data, but I know that Duo will not respect this and so I am careful.   
  
I do not know what I am looking for. But I find it after ten minutes; a piece of paper torn from a notebook, slipped into Miyamoto's Book of Five Rings that I had leant him.  
  
The date at the top of the page was three weeks back. Duo had left for a particularly arduous mission. Chances were good that either he or Chang would not come back. Wing had been damaged, Winner had been setting up an RV with the Maguanacs and arranging a new safe-house, and Barton had been needed for another mission. I had not objected. Neither had 02 or 05. I had been busy repairing Wing when they'd left, rushing to make it air-worthy at least as minimum precaution against discovery of the safe-house in the event of their capture. Duo had waved from the cockpit of Deathscythe. And apparently left this letter as well.   
  
It was written in pencil, with several corrections, in a script that was much more tight and deliberate than Duo's usual looping scrawl, though the punctuation and grammar ran a bit ragged at the end.  
  
"Hiya babe.  
  
If I buy it, you'll probably burn my stuff, but you might want to get your book back so I have a chance you'll find this. People I knew died sudden. So I know that I need to get the words out now, because unlike me, death is one great silence. No more words.  
  
You're probably wondering why I'm bothering. With this letter. With you. This probably won't compute. I'm not writing this to your fucking laptop though, I'm writing this to a little part of you that will one day understand this.  
  
Don't get me wrong! I love your laptop! *a smiley face had been scrawled onto the page* I love your dedication to what you do, cause I know how much it hurts. Yeah the baka can guess a lot more about you than you think. I know how easy it is for you to die for the colonies and the mission. I know how hard it is for you to live for them in the meantime. Ne?  
  
I am the god of death so that I can deal with the irony of me of all people making more orphans. It'd be tempting to become my own last victim. But I won't, not as long as I don't give up that last inch of me that can look at the stars and see something other than targets. I know there's a speck in you that's still like that. After the war, it might become more than a speck. Right now I know I'm a handy screw to you but I think the reason it's me and not some other hole in the wall is because I can see that tiny percent of you that's not just the perfect soldier. You take what you want from me, I'll take that speck in you and call it mine. I think it is. Even if you don't realize it.  
  
Now don't go running back to J for more torture. What I'm talking about is not a glitch in your system, perfect soldier. And you are perfect. And I love you. So I won't hesitate to pull that trigger on you if you're the one captured and I can't get you out. Because you are the perfect soldier I respect. And because of that little piece of you that is mine, and that I'll keep within me always, even if it hurts.   
  
That's why I'm writing this. I want that bit of you to remember me  *the words 'if I' could be barely seen on the paper, written and then rubbed out*  after OZ finally nails my hide to the wall. I think as long as you keep that small part of you, a little of me will live on as well. *some more words had been rubbed out*  Damn got more to say but time to go. Chang yelling at me.  
  
Yours truly,  
  
Love, Duo"  
  
 _/After the war?/_  
  
We had intimate physical relations. That was already a small risk to him. The way Shinigami stalked me showed me he was fully aware of this. And willing to risk it. He could provide me with relations with someone who had a good chance of surviving even if I slipped up. And also provide stimulation for the mind as well as the body, as our sparring and play-stalking had developed into good exercises of wits and physical abilities.  
  
I would never have allowed any emotions to become involved in this however. I would have broken off all relations at once if I'd thought that was a possibility.  
  
/What does he mean, _after the war_... ?/  
  
I had looked for this data, the information contained in this letter, to see if this breaking off was necessary. I'd found the data, but I didn't understand what it meant.   
  
Now I don't know what to think.  
  
/There is nothing after the war./   
  
Only a bullet, the last bullet, to eliminate the last threat, and give some measure of compensation to all the victims. Then an unmarked grave...   
  
/And peace... /  
  
Instead of analysing Duo's feelings for me, it seems that this small piece of paper is trying to get me to analyse my feelings for Duo. So that leaves two big questions.  
  
Is Duo in lo- developing feelings towards me, and will this impair his efficiency?  
  
And is Duo's analysis of my attitude towards him correct, and is this really not a failu- not an impairment to my mission?  
  
/There is nothing else after the war... /   
  
/... /  
  
/Is there?/  
  
My hand trembles ever so slightly, making the paper twitch. I frown at it, surprised, and it stops.   
  
There is a third question, actually. How should I respond to this? If I could formulate an adequate response, this could limit the damage of whatever it is that is potentially developing between us.   
  
Then the first two questions would not need to be addressed.   
  
/At least not yet... /


	4. Epilogue

(Duo's POV)  
  
I whisper up the stairs, every movement shadowed with silence. Heero is already gone, and I don't want to wake the others; don't want Trowa fussing over a few minor cuts and bruises, don't want Quatre looking me in the eye and seeing the remains of a satisfied, blood-drenched Shinigami give way to a worn, hollowed out Duo Maxwell. I only ever show them what I want them to see, and tonight, this jester's mask feels heavy...   
  
I reach the room, with an achingly empty bed on Heero's side. Three days, oh well. I sigh in relief as I ghost towards my own rumpled unmade-  
  
Piece of paper! On the sheets...   
  
I stare at it as if it might explode. I recognize it only too well.  
  
Oops...   
  
Damn, he must have wanted his book back. Baka, why'd you leave it there!   
  
Hmm, because I wanted him to see it if I got nailed, and that can happen any minute of any given day when you live like we do...   
  
Since the letter showed no intention of turning into a frag grenade and ripping my arm off, I creep nearer and pick it up, glancing over my own scrawl automatically. Hmm why'd he leave it out like this? I flip it over briefly. There's writing on the other side.  
  
My eyes are closed in a flash. I take a deep breath, another. Then I open my eyes and read the short, curt sentences innocent of any endearment or preamble.  
  
"I do not understand entirely the data contained in this letter."  
  
\- does not compute, I grimace, that's what I thought.  
  
"Our present relation is satisfactory and serves a purpose. Development of an emotional relation is unnecessary."  
  
Wow, lookit that! He's saying he doesn't have to love me to fuck me. He IS a guy after all! My smile tries to make a stab at amused but fails and tumbles into sour.  
  
"It is also unacceptable. There is a chance that it will impair our efficiency in our cause. It will interfere with the proper conduct-"  
  
I don't even bother reading to the end of that sentence as my temper ignites. Fuck you, Heero Yuy! I am willing to live and die for the colonies, and I'll go down bathed in blood and giving OZ the finger! If you don't know that-   
  
No, he said 'there is a chance'. If he actually thought I would fail, the letter would have been a whole lot shorter. 'Leave, or die' would have summed it up.  
  
I realize my fingers have nearly made holes in the notepaper. I smooth it out, trying to get my usual good cheer back, my eyes automatically scanning the rest of the letter.  
  
I see the last two words, and blink. My heart stops. My mind too, for an instant.   
  
I drag my eyes back to the place I'd left off, skipping over a curt threat of cutting off any contact if he thought our efficiency would suffer. I knew that. I wanted to know how Heero had gotten to those last words in just one short paragraph.  
  
"You mention making some sort of plans for after the war. I do not understand how you can plan for such an unlikely contingency. You know the probabilities of both our survivals. I can calculate them for you on my return if you wish."   
  
No that's ok, babe, I can guess. Sheesh.  
  
"Idle speculation is meaningless. If you wish to continue our present arrangement, you will not mention this again. You will not make plans for this. We will not discuss any of this again."  
  
Abrupt and to the point. But then there were the last two words...   
  
My eyes roam over every inch of the letter, memorising not only the words but the way their neat, crisp letters align over the page in military precision. It had been dangerous to leave this for Heero; if the safe-house had been captured, this could have been used against either of us. The idea of OZ interrogators going over this, especially over those last two words, is not something to think about. I'll burn it Heero would order me to when he gets back, anyway. I want to keep it with me, so I have to do it in memory.  
  
The words are all Heero Yuy, Perfect Soldier all right.   
  
The last two words are also Heero; they're from that little percent of Heero that I am the only one to know about. Those words might be a slip; or they might be a deliberate promise not to blow his perfect-soldier brains out the moment peace is won, it doesn't matter. They are here and they are mine.   
  
My eyes linger over that curt signature before crumpling up the paper and heading towards the bathroom, lighter flicking on and off. The words still burn in front of my eyes.  
  
"Yours.   
  
Heero."  
  
end one precent  
  
\+   
  
author;s notes: Though I didn't say it was a sequel, my other fic '[What's In A Name?](http://raygunworks.net/maldoror/name.html)' _was_ actually a sequel to this piece, in my mind. I didn't mention it because it had a different rating than Whispers, and because you didn't need to read the one to understand the other. But if you like Whispers and this fic, well, that's the next one. Will I write more? Maybe (looks around for inspiration, and then goes after it with a buster rifle).  
  
(Yikes. Rereading the end, I realize that my secret's out. I admit it, I'm just one big romantic sap. Sorry for the Limus Interuptus by the way, trust me it's much better ending there than anywhere it wanted to go after that... it would not have been a very interesting or inspired lemon... maybe I'll be more inspired next time.)


End file.
